


Locked Away: Spiraling Descent

by TheGreatShiniGami



Series: A Glance Askance [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, F/F, F/M, Incest, Insanity, Mercy Killing, Springboard Fic, Time Travelish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatShiniGami/pseuds/TheGreatShiniGami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And here we are imprison'd against the ages; forgotten wretches of the world left to die.</p><p>Sirius finds himself locked away again; this time in the attic of Manor Noir. Adjusting to awakening in his youthful again body, his imprisonment with Bellatrix threatens to drive him mad--again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Locked Away: Spiraling Descent

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [There And Black Again](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/117706) by Megan13. 



> A/N: First I would like to say thank you to Megan13 from FF.net/FictionAlley for starting the fic that semi-inspired this story. (There and Black Again) I’m merely taking off from her jumping point; although my vein is a bit different from hers. (I assume, but you know how much wank assumptions and gender starts on the internet now. *sigh*)
> 
> Secondly: This is a sordid affair. I mean, really really bad. I’m not used to writing some of the content that happens in this place; and frankly my awkwardness is really part of the point. It’s meant to make you feel squicky inside because of the subject matter. The Black family is an evil and twisted bunch—through cultural bent and by virtue of the magic they inherit and practice. Confections? No? Very well, let the tale commence

June 27th, 1978, Late Evening

_Imperio…_

The last word he’d heard echoed in his mind as the buzzing of his free-will returning cut through the Imperius’ stupor. The scene before him was a sort of dim, monochrome loft flat—although normally this would not include the shredded wingback chair, old blood stains, two plates of untouched food, and that damnable faint cackling he’d heard since the buzzing faded. The low beamed corridor stretched into unintelligible blackness. There were no cobwebs on the one window though; evident that the House Elves made _some_ effort to clean this…dungeon. That was the only word for it; even though his location was above ground.

Sirius quaked for a moment internally before regaining his composure and realizing _where_ he really was; he had started to think that he had gone mad—a vicarious product of both his ‘rebirth’ and the Black blood that pumped through him then and now. While before this had just manifested itself as some of his more ‘argumentative’ moments as Mooney would call them; now the Black Madness manifested more similarly to Bellatrix’s more incineratory inclinations. The cackling broke his thoughtline once more; raising the hackles of said madman’s anger.

It was clear now; he was in the attic of Manor Noir. There was only one other living person who’d been locked away in the Attic and while Sirius knew that he’d have to face his cousin sooner or later/again; he’d have preferred to do it somewhere in the open—with his wand at the very least. While Bellatrix wouldn’t have one either—that didn’t matter very much. The cackling grew louder; forcing him to turn to face the corridor once more. He wasn’t sure how much this Bella would be different from her last incarnation—given that Bella _ever_ could be different from the torrent of insanity and sadism that she was. Better to be prepared for the inevitable, than be caught unawares by a star-crossed sign.

“Baby Siri’s come home to roost, has he? _Come to_ _play with Cousin Bella?_ ” She whispered from the dark.

“Crazy bint! I’ve not come here to have anything to do with you; Mummy Dearest’s locked me in here for the summer instead of sending me away for ‘treatment’ at St. Mungo’s. Keep your distance or I’ll ring you two for one for the last thirteen years I was locked away with you!” He shouted back at her; still wroth over Remus’ complicity in the affair. The boy hadn’t known truly that Lucius was trying to frame him; but it still stung. _When your best mate tells you something is going to happen in the future, you bloody well believe him._ He thought.The cackling interluded once more as the half-starved—but still voluptuous form of his eldest cousin slinked into the one shaft of fading daylight from the one window.

The pretense of hiding his knowledge was gone; Lucius had already convinced his parents of his ‘malady’ after he tried to warn the bastard off of grasping Voldemort’s coat-tails to ruin. He told Remus; in hopes that outing the rat would lead to an odd, house-spanning spanner in Moldy’s gears. Just in time to whisk Narcissa away and leave Lucy-boy in the dust with his new ‘friends’. It was still odd that he’d gotten to think of the man as a friend during his brief clash with another life. All the werewolf did was go to Dumbledore to try and ‘help’. That twisted old geezer was partly the reason for all this in the first place—not to mention all of the things that he’d hidden over the years or kept to half-truths in order to further some arcane goal. That was the whole problem with Wizarding society, Padfoot had figured. These immortal old bats and bints who’ve thrown so much power around they forget what _exactly_ that does to the character of a man—and his ability to relate to others that can’t just will away their woes and forget their faults.

“Aww… Is that any way to greet your _favorite_ cousin, O’ Heir Apparent?” She said, sidestepping to try and come around him from behind. He likewise stepped to the opposite side and the two caged beasts began to circle one another.

“You were _never_ my favorite. I am _not_ mad, and I’ll never bow to the wretched, waste of a man you call Lord!” Sirius growled back, spreading his hands out from him and bending his knees slightly. If this was anything like Azkaban; then the same tactics that served in their brawls there would suffice in Druella’s upstairs oubliette. He only hoped that the windows here were made of Shatterproof Glass. Probably, if it were expected to truly contain the tempest it had dwelling in it now.

“I have no _Lord_!” She roared as she stepped in front of the one window; the light framing her sultry form with an unholy halo. “ _I have no equal!_ My very Blood is power—unbound, limitless Power!” She continued with an overwhelming intensity as crackles of fire began to build between her fingers. Sirius had forgotten about that bit of information temporarily. While he could cast without speaking; eliminating the somatic _and_ focus components of a spell were above his ken. Something Bellatrix had flaunted in his face before when she was free; only it seemed she was crazier here than before. There were so many things he didn’t know—didn’t learn about himself before he started trying to change things.

“Funny that. Even without you sucking the shite of his shoes and worshiping that bloody corpse it all comes down to Blood for you, doesn’t it?” Sirius jeered at her; hoping to send her into a full on rage. Either she’d lose her concentration—and thus the spell; or she would kill him. At the current point of things both situations looked promising.

The fireball leapt from her hand as though it was nothing—the actual feat was somewhat excruciating due to the amount of energy that had to pass through the limb. Sirius leapt diagonally at her; letting the fireball splash against the wall and lick flames around. He didn’t have time to see if anything caught—although an assumption that Druella had spelled the room to be fireproof after Bellatrix had burned her own rooms was fairly safe. While death would be a blessing to him now; he thought—he did _not_ want to die here, burning, tangled up in a fight with his maniacal cousin.

“Fool! Blood is Power! Every little rivulet draws it from y…” She started to reply with contempt in her voice—before being cut off from speech by Sirius’ hands wrapping around her throat. She struck out a knee to his groin; which succeeded in distracting him for a moment and bringing them both to the floor with a slam. The would-have-been Marauder clutched furiously, but Bellatrix kicked her feet again, landing a solid strike against his shoulder. Another splash of flame burst forth as he got his legs from under him to make another dive after her before she could get away—this one crashing against his face and singing his hair. He landed on top of her, receiving another knee to the bollocks for his efforts. The wizard yelped with the pain, but kept his focus on the murderous task at hand. He felt the soft touch of flesh meet his hands as he squeezed; which he would have locked into crushing her windpipe if he hadn’t heard her utter one word as she touched his temple lightly with a still flickering finger.

“ _Legi…Legilimens…”_

He wasn’t sure what all she was seeing; or if her mind was hale enough to let her truly process what he knew. The War, their personal feuds, Azkaban and all the way up to when she sent him bum over kettle through the Veil in the Room of Death. More recent flashes came forward as she thumbed through his memories; his tryst with Narcissa, which she lingered on for a bit too long—drawing luridly detailed memories of it out of him. The resulting argument and distancing himself from Lucius and his discovery of said tryst. Remus’ denial of their camaraderie and the confused hurt that came from mentioning his infatuation with their would-have-been mutual friend. The connection of minds laid all of him bare—down to the last tattered bits that held on to his fears and hatreds.

What he had not expected was the rushing, plunging depths that he himself was cast into as Bellatrix used her spell. The side effects of Legilimency weren’t lost on him, and he would have normally loathed taking a dip in his mad cousin’s mind. The visions that swam ahead of his eyes told an entirely different story than the one he had expected to see.

A winter’s day—after Yule celebrations but most assuredly before their return to school. _“Show me! Show me, Bella, please?” He must not have been that old—maybe seven, before he’d figured out what his parent’s really believed and acted like._ Apparently he’d been begging her to show him her new spells that she’d learned in school.

Another moment; when he first came to Hogwarts and he was sorted with Narcissa—in this existence. _“I knew you’d make it in. And don’t worry about other houses, dearies. ” She said, pulling the two of them down to either side of her at the Slytherin Table. “They know not to rouse the ire of their betters.” She said; eyes twinkling._

_“Are the common rooms and dormitories really in the dungeon? Why would they put us in such dreary part of the castle?” Narcissa asked; daintily rearranging her silverware in the French style. The hovering candlelight sparkled against the lacquer of the long House table._

_“Yes, they are. But we need dark and low spaces to determine things amongst ourselves, ‘Cissa love. Remember this first; No Coiling Outside the Lair. Slytherins do not show the petty posturing of Lions; nor do we squaw and gull like the Crows. And unlike our ‘fellows’” she explained; with only a middling drip of malice towards the Badgers, “We do not simply cling together. Snakes do not fight in the sight of others, but we do what needs to be done to make us strong.”_

_“Will they let me play quiddich? I want to fly!” Sirius-of-then piqued whilst loading his plate down. Lucius smirked at him from his seat across the table. They’d actually been friends—shockingly enough—much like he and James had become in the Before._

_“No, Siri. First Years aren’t allowed to fly for House clubs. If you managed to impress Slughorn; he’s our corpulent Head of House, he may try and persuade Madam Hooch to allow you.” Bella replied. His older cousin tousled his hair and began informing them of the routine of Hogwarts and what was expected of them as Slytherins as well as Blacks._

Several others flashed through; and it seemed that where he had been the rebel in his past life, now Bellatrix carried the torch in this one. Her refusal to conform to Druella’s idea of what a proper pure-blood witch should act like was only the first of her defiances. The second came as she graduated Hogwarts; but refused to take the mark. _‘If you want to kill a bunch of lowly mudbloods; do it yourself. I’ll let none rule over me._ Coupled with her open secret; this had caused her to ‘vanish’ into the Attic after that year’s Beltane festivties. The lines that drew the two of them had to only be altered slightly, to cast one into another’s role as easily as changing a shirt. Sirius was sickened by the thought; that had _he-of-then_ woken up in his bed that night rather than himself; would he be as sadistic and twisted as Bella was in the old time? _Would he have went with Lucius down into the forest that night?_

He didn’t travel too far down that line of thought before the mental connection was broken and Bellatrix fell unconscious. Worry worn hands released the porcelain throat just prior to crushing the windpipe. There would be a bruise; no doubt: but the two of them weren’t cared for now, so things like marks and bruises were of no consequence here. Sirius backed away from her still form, breath only just lightly returning to her. He needed to think; to sort all this out and plan something— _anything,_ rather than be trapped with her again. Regardless of how she’d turned out in this time; imprisonment was the same to him, no matter who he was locked in with. He stepped back towards the low corridor taking in the last rays of sunlight from The Window and began to concentrate. The erstwhile Gryffindor felt his bones begin to soften and his body begin to shift and melt into the other form he held. It would be much easier to see up here then; and as he found when his change was complete, there was a reason Bella hadn’t eaten today—with the Bewilderment Beverage/Calming Draught laced meal being presented. Did they have a function tonight? That would call for the need to have he and Bella tractable—the thought that tractability could ever be imposed on his cousin seemed unlikely.

The soft clack of toenails on hardwood faded into the nearing dark as dusk set on Manor Noir. He’d be able to hear her when she awoke; and maybe they could avoid each other for a time, before he could get out from here. _If he could ever get out from here._ What had it taken to get Bellatrix out before? Voldemort? Her conversion in his previous life to his cause seemed almost understandable now. Padfoot laid down on the smooth boards of The Attic and took a much needed nap.


End file.
